


Dance

by Firenza



Series: Septic Egos Oneshots [3]
Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Fluff, Memories, No Angst, No Beta read we die like men, Sad Backstories, Sign Language, Tap Dance, dance, well there’s some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: Jameson finds something he thought he’d never see again.





	Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspirared by my friend (I’ll call her Oli) who came up with the idea that JJ can tap dance. She has an account here, but won’t tell me what it is. Oh well

What had started as rearranging his room for probably the second time that month, turned into more of going through his belongings than anything. He’d hardly been in the ego’s home for three months and he’d moved each piece of furniture more times than he could count. Something about how the furniture was arranged wasn’t sitting right with him and he  _ was _ determined to figure it out, but after he noticed an old photograph sticking out of the chest, he became distracted. Now, he was digging through the piles and piles of old letters and pictures that he didn’t know he had here. Each was a reminder of a time long left behind. He’d thought that he’d gotten over leaving it all behind, but seeing all of it was a reminder of the harsh truth: there was no way for him to ever return to the life that he’d once had.

Nostalgia filled him as he reread each letter. Some were to old friends, others to long dead family members. He absently wondered if he could find their graves somewhere. The letters were set into a shoe box, and the photos into another until finally he found something that he would have  _ never _ expected to see again. A pair of old tap shoes.

Gingerly, he pulled the shoes from the box and lightly ran his finger over the smooth metal at the heel. It was unscratched, as if they were new. The leather was just as pristine, with no wrinkles at all. He stared at the shoes for a few moments more, wondering how they had gotten in the chest. In the end, he gave up the questioning. Just look at the life he was living. A magician and literal super-hero lived in the same house he did; a crazed, probably homicidal glitch was terrorizing them, and he was sitting here wondering how a pair of shoes got in his chest. 

He chuckled at himself. Slipping the shoes on, he found them to be a perfect fit. He hadn’t tapped in years. It had been a while  _ before _ he’d even shown up in this time period. He stood and tried the shoes against his hard-wood floor. The sound that rung out was just as clear as he remembered. He tried a few more sounds, sharp and precise just as he was taught so long ago. 

An idea sparks. He grabs a random record off his dresser and races to the phonograph on the other side of the room. The record crackles before a lively tune plays. He smiles and moves his feet in time. He’s honestly surprised he remembers as much as he does. 

Dancing was one of his only escapes as a child. Growing up with two basically absent parents and no siblings, he was lonely most of the time. When his school friend introduced him to dance, he instantly fell in love. Unfortunately, even after he begged his parents for lessons, they still said no, claiming that they didn’t have enough money. That wouldn’t have been a problem except for the fact that they were lying. They were always taking vacations, being gone sometimes for even months at a time. So he had to come up with another plan.

He went with his friend to his studio and begged the director if there was anything that he could do to get cheaper lessons. The director basically turned him into the studio janitor, but he didn’t mind. He was getting lessons for  _ free _ . The other students were nice enough, but they existed in their own little cliques without him. At the same time, he still felt like he fit in there more than he’d felt anywhere else. 

After he’d graduated from school, he continued to dance, performing in shows for bars and coffee houses. But after a while, it wasn’t enough to pay the bills and he had to stop to get a new job. Occasionally he would dance by himself in his house, but eventually he stopped altogether not finding as much joy in the act as he used to. Now, however, he felt more like himself than he had in a long time. It was freeing to just move without any worries.

Suddenly, a ringing phone breaks him from his memories. Whatever spell had come over him washes away as he whips around to see the other three residents of the house standing in the doorway. Jackie mutters a curse and pulls his phone from his pocket, mouthing an apology as he turns away to answers it. Chase gives him a thumbs up and turns away, noticing how awkward the situation had gotten. Only Marvin remains in the doorway.

A blush creeps up Jameson’s cheeks, _ “How long were you watching?”  _ He signs.

Marvin chuckles, and Jameson’s silently thankful that it was him that stayed as he was the only one who was truly fluent in ASL. Jackie and Chase tried to understand him, but they were still learning. “For a little while. You’re really good, you know.”

_ “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve danced. It feels good to be able to do it again.” _ Jameson smiles.

It’s silent for a moment, before Marvin speaks. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was wondering, ah, if you would be willing to teach me.” 


End file.
